Prisms of Darkness
by Serpent In Red
Summary: She will surrender. There are no questions in his mind. It is only a matter of time. And he was never an impatient man. What Lord Voldemort wants, he will get. It will not be any different this time. Hermione Granger will belong to him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : Yeah, the story got deleted by yours truly. Don't ask why. *head-desks* As if I have soooo much time that I don't have anything better to do than to upload chapters. Which reminds me that I should do some editing and revising while I'm at it. *sighs*. Anyhow ... enough of my complaining.

~-0-~

 **Chapter 1**

The war was over.

Everything seemed to stand still the moment the Killing Curse was cast from Lord Voldemort's yew wand and hit Harry Potter square on the chest.

The Boy Who Lived, their savior, the only hope for the Muggle and Wizarding world was dead.

A few minutes later, a scream of glee came from Bellatrix Lestrange as the Death Eaters attacked all who had stood up to the Dark Lord. With the victory of Voldemort, the Death Eaters fought even more viciously. As much as the people on the Light side wanted to put up a battle, the death of Harry punctured their spirits as a needle would puncture a balloon.

For some reason, Voldemort had not used the Elder Wand in the last battle against Harry. Later, when Hermione was thrown into a dungeon at the Malfoy Manor, she heard rumors about the Elder Wand being stolen. That, however, was no longer the most important issue.

Despite of her grief for the deaths that had occurred, she knew she had to go on. The brightness in her eyes slightly dimmed as she thought about those who had perished in the final battle.

Harry, Ron, Seamus, Justin, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and Tonks were among the ones she had seen die before her. The rest of them were captured and waiting for a verdict to come from Voldemort. Nobody knew what was going to happen to them.

McGonagall was taken from the dungeons a few days ago and had never returned. The rest of them knew better than to think that she was alive although they did hope for it. If at least one of them could get out of the prisons, they might have a chance to rally more people to fight against the Dark Lord.

~-0-~

He had heard many things about her that reminded him of a younger version of himself.

He was curious about her until the first time he had seen her.

 _So naïve, so pure, so awfully good and brave_ , he thought in his head mockingly as he stared at the bushy-haired witch.

He wanted to break her. He wanted to taint her so that she was no longer as white as a piece of paper. He wanted Dumbledore and Potter to die in vain.

His followers had injured her quite badly that day, leaving her with gashes in all parts of her body. Her shirt was almost completely stained red from the blood that was pouring from her wounds. Yet, she still fought on.

When he had her brought in front of her, she looked at him with a look of defiance.

"Miss Granger," he nodded in her direction as a gesture of greeting.

Hermione stood motionless in front of him.

He stood up from his chair and circled around her, looking at her contemplatively. He stopped behind her. "Pardon me. I had forgotten that you were a _Gryffindor_."

She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip.

Voldemort knew that she was afraid, but she was not frightened enough. He grabbed her by her waist, forcing her to tumble into his arms with her back towards him.

"And may I remind you that you are a Gryffindor _in my hands_ ," he whispered to her, his lips nearly touching her earlobe. He smirked when he felt a slight shiver go through her body.

She still did not say anything.

He traced a finger down her cheek, momentarily astonished by how warm she was. Still keeping his lips right next to her ear, he hissed, "Mr. Malfoy informed me of your intelligence, Ms. Granger." He could feel her body stiffen at the mention of her former classmate. "There are so many things I could teach you. Your thirst for knowledge could be quenched. All you have to do is swear your loyalty to me."

~-0-~

He was trying to tempt her. As alluring as the deal seemed to her, Hermione was not going to give in. She already felt guilty for living while others perished. She was not going to let another issue haunt her conscious.

"You are as stubborn as Bella had told me," he snarled as he threw her on to the floor.

Hermione grimaced when she hit the floor, but she was not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

"I could kill you as easily as I had killed the others. Don't forget that you are a Mudblood. I'm only allowing you to live because I see the potential inside of you."

"Then kill me," she answered as she turned around and looked at him venomously. To her surprise, a high, cold laugh replied to her instead of the infamous green light.

"Miss Granger," he said softly as he bent down towards her. "You are truly naïve. Why would I kill you when there are many, many more things to be done to you?" He stood up again and waved his wand at her, cleaning her up. "You are to follow beside me from now on."

Hermione looked at him in disbelief.

He looked at her with his crimson eyes. "You shall see the magnificence of the Dark Arts with your own eyes."

~-0-~

For seven years, Hermione had been following beside him. Every time he took her outside, she would look for a way to escape from him. Of course, she never succeeded and was treated with rounds of the Cruciatus Curse. To some extent, the torture made her feel at peace. She felt as if she was repaying the debt she owned Harry and Ron. Other than that, she would be Cruciated when she rejected to the idea of learning the Arts.

She was tempted by the knowledge of the Dark Arts, but she still refused to touch them. She could not, however, deny the fact that watching Lord Voldemort perform them was mesmerizing. Besides the grace and expertise by which he performed the Arts, she could feel the passion behind every single one of his moves. She was almost positive that some of the curses and spells were creations of his own. Although she felt disgusted with herself, she had to admit that he was an admirable wizard.

Day after day, she saw innocent lives being taken and people who had resisted the Dark Lord tortured. At night, when she lied in the chamber that was connected to Lord Voldemort's room, she sometimes wanted to laugh at Voldemort for believing that she would want to learn the Dark Arts if she saw these inhumane acts. Of course, sometimes, he would read intriguing passages from texts about the Dark Arts to her, but she continued to hold up her resistance.

She knew that she had no one else. The last prisoner that was executed was Neville. Hermione had formerly thought that he would have been one of the first ones to die at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Nevertheless, the maniacal witch saw it fit to torture the last Longbottom to insanity before ending his life.

Despite knowing what Voldemort stood for, Hermione knew that he was slowly becoming part of her life. It was evident to her when he disappeared for three days straight. Perhaps it was because she knew that he was the only one who cared about her well-being, as ludicrous as that might sound. To some extent, he was even kind to her, compared to how he treated the other prisoners. The Death Eaters around her, on the other hand, were merely indifferent.

And for that reason, she hated them even more than she hated the Dark Lord.

~-0-~

"I shall be leaving for three days," Voldemort announced one day as he sat at the dinner table.

She was allowed food, but while she did not surrender to him, her "seat" was on the floor. Hermione looked at him with a frown.

He was looking at her, his eyes unreadable pits of red.

She wanted to ask him where he was going to or if he was taking her, but it felt wrong for her to do so.

"You will stay in my chambers while I am gone. The house-elf will bring you your meals. You should know better than to try to leave the chambers," he continued.

 _Again?_ That was the first thought that came to Hermione's mind when she heard his announcement. He was leaving her alone in the chambers again?

As if he had read her mind, or maybe he had, he smirked before standing up from his seat and Apparating at the spot.

She continued to stare at the spot he had occupied until one of the house-elves came and questioned her if she would like a bath.

She numbly replied to the house-elf but she could not explain the feeling of loss she felt inside of her. What was wrong with her?

~-0-~

Hearing the gentle click of the doorknob, Hermione jumped up from where she was sleeping and ran into Lord Voldemort's room. To her dismay, it was only the house-elf bringing her lunch. She sank down to the floor.

Where was he? It had already been four days already.

 _Perhaps someone killed him_ , she thought, trying to smile at the idea but was terrified when she found that she could not.

Throughout the whole day, Hermione vaguely knew what was happening around her as she contemplated her feelings and the reasons for them. The next day, those thoughts were thrown to the back of her head when Voldemort still had not returned.

She sat beside the chair he always sat in at the dining table, burying her head in her knees. She was lost and confused. She _hated_ him. Then why was she feeling so lost when he was not around her?

When she heard the familiar crack beside the chair she was sitting next to, she immediately looked up. He was looking quietly at her with his red eyes.

Hermione knew, without looking at the mirror, that her eyes were sparkling at the sight of him.

~-0-~

The night he took her, she did not resist him. While they were in bed, all she could remember, all she could see, all she could feel was him. As she lied beside him, afterwards, she wondered if she had been placed under the Imperius Curse.

Her face turned a few shades paler when she could not convince herself any longer that she was placed under a spell. She had been willing.

Hermione turned her head and looked at the wizard lying beside her. Voldemort was looking at her with an expressionless face.

She wanted to cry but she could not. The tears did not come even when she willed them to come.

Hermione felt dizzy as the realization hit her.

She had fallen in love with him. Although she hated him, at the same time, she loved him.

He sat up on the bed and ran a finger down her arm. Hermione looked at him but he did not say a word. He got out of bed and robed himself.

"I shall return by nightfall," Voldemort said before he Apparated away. Hermione stared at where he was just standing before again.

 _I'm in love with him. I hate him. Yet I'm in love with him._

Hermione almost wanted to laugh out loud at the irony of it.

Instead, she screamed.

~-0-~

He knew that she would stop struggling against him one of these days. However, he still grimaced at the irony of how it would be _love_ that conquered the stubborn little witch for him.

When he returned to his chambers that night, he was surprised that he did not see Hermione. He called on the house-elf and it informed him that the witch was taking a bath.

He made his way to the bathroom, a smirk lingering at his lips for his ultimate victory over Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived To Annoy.

When he pushed open the door to the bathroom, all things around him seemed to freeze.

A scream of fury erupted from his throat as he threw a spell at the already broken mirror. The shattered pieces fell to the floor, joining the other pieces that were there when the mirror was first broken.

Just like the first time he had seen her at the battlefield, she was still as white as a piece of paper.

All the wounds on her body had healed already except for the new one in her chest.

And all he saw was red.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** : Did some minor edits, so the chapters are coming out a bit slower than I would like them to be. Rest assured, I'm still working on this whenever real life decides to give me a breather. Working as in writing the new chapters and editing the older chapters. Review replies will be coming after this chapter is posted.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

She should had known earlier.

Or perhaps she had known but had not wanted to believe it.

"My Lord, why keep the girl? She is of no use to us any longer," she had asked.

"Bella, if you were Dumbledore or Potter, would you not turn in your grave if one of your best accomplices broke down to your greatest enemy?" her Lord had answered with a vile smirk.

She always believed in what he told her. Therefore, when he said that to her, she believed him. She believed that he merely wanted the pleasure of killing the girl for himself.

Bellatrix Lestrange had been wrong.

She had waited. She'd panicked when she'd heard about the Dark Lord bringing along Mudblood Granger wherever he went. She'd told herself that it was a matter of days before the Dark Lord would become bored from torturing the girl. It was not that hard to break down a filthy little Mudblood. After she broke down, the Dark Lord would kill her. The place at his arms would be rightfully Bellatrix's again within days.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years.

For seven years, the Mudblood followed the Dark Lord while Bellatrix stood at the sidelines, becoming increasingly vindictive. For the first four years, she could still tell herself that there was nothing between the Dark Lord and Granger. The day when the girl appeared at the Quidditch World Cup (something which the Dark Lord had kept despite his disinterest of the sport), Bellatrix finally understood the severity of the situation.

Although Granger still walked around with a look of defiance on her face, there was something else in her eyes.

Bellatrix understood that emotion. It was the same emotion she garnered for her Lord. She felt disgusted when she realized that she shared something with someone with impure blood. However, that feeling was quickly overcome by the threat she was faced with.

The Dark Lord watched the match between Bulgaria and Luxemburg nonchalantly, but she caught the occasional glances he had thrown at Granger.

No. Bellatrix finally found out that her place in the Dark Lord's heart had been moved.

She, nevertheless, was not a witch to go down without a fight.

* * *

She waited. People often said that she was rash but they had forgotten that she had spent fourteen years in Azkaban. She could be patient when she needed to be.

And patience she had.

She had to go through days while watching that filthy little thing stand beside her master, the greatest wizard in the world. It sickened her to see the Dark Lord care about Granger. The girl and even the Dark Lord might be oblivious to that fact, but she saw it. She saw the concern in his eyes when something about Granger happened. It made her want to grab the girl by the hair and throw her against the wall.

Bellatrix, however, held it all in.

Years passed again, but she was no longer worried. She had a plan. The Dark Lord did not give her his trust for no reason. Although she might be insane, as many people claimed, she was intelligent.

The night her master took the girl, she knew that he had some business to attend to at midnight and would not return till the next day. She knew her chance had finally come.

She waited outside his chambers, as much as it tortured her. Each gasp and each moan that came from the filthy Mudblood's mouth was like a sword being plunged into her heart. She felt excruciating pain when she heard the Dark Lord's groans and whispers.

She did not need to deny it. She was a jealous woman and hearing those sounds made her want to inflict the same amount of pain she was going through on the woman on her Lord's bed. She, however, could wait. She had waited for three years since the Quidditch World Cup. She could wait until midnight.

When she heard the familiar crack from inside of the room, her eyes shimmered with glee. Oh yes. She was going to get her revenge.

* * *

She walked into the chambers after Hermione screamed. No tears were running down the Mudblood's face, but she had a traumatized expression on her face. However, that look went away when she noticed that there was another person in the room.

"Bellatrix," she whispered as she pulled the blanket closer to her body.

"Don't you dare mutter my name with your filthy mouth," she hissed as she pulled out her wand. "How dare you share the bed of the Dark Lord?"

"I ... I ..." Hermione stuttered. Apparently, she was more caught up with the fact that she had slept with the Dark Lord than the wand that was in Bellatrix's hand.

"You love him, don't you?" Bellatrix said, tapping the wand on her hand as she kept note of the time. All of the things she had planned must be done at the right time or else she might be caught. Or even worse, Hermione might be saved.

"I ... I ..." the girl continued to stammer.

A maniacal laugh escaped from Bellatrix. "You didn't know? Or did you just find out tonight?"

The girl stared at the wall with a blank look on her face, but Bellatrix knew she was thinking.

She stopped her laughing and a menacing look appeared on her face. "It doesn't matter any longer, Mudblood. It's going to end tonight."

Hermione looked at her alarmed.

"What are you going to do?" she questioned. Delicious fear was written on every feature of her face.

"Do you actually think that I'm going to allow you to stay beside him?" Bellatrix asked ferociously. " _I_ am his most loyal Death Eater. _I_ am the one who should be by his side. How dare someone as filthy as you have a place by his side and earn his care?"

"His care ..." she repeated softly. Bellatrix laughed again.

"You didn't know? _You didn't know_? And my dear nephew always complained about your intelligence," Bellatrix jeered as she pointed the wand at Hermione.

"You're going to kill me?" Hermione inquired.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at the girl on the bed.

* * *

Bellatrix smiled as she stood outside of her master's chambers yet again.

"Bella!" she heard him call her name. She immediately entered the room and knelt down in front of him.

"Yes, my Lord," she replied, her eyes glowing with happiness.

He was all hers again.

He remained silent for a while, and Bellatrix daringly glanced at him quickly before lowering her head again.

She bit hard into the inside of her lower lip.

" _You're going to kill me?_ "

 _Oh no, filthy little Mudblood. You're going to have many more years of torture for the grief in my Lord's eyes when he believed you to be dead. Many more years._

"Give her a proper burial," he finally commanded. "You know what to do with those who dare to taint her name."

"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix answered with hatred burning in her heart.

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand before he sat down on the bed and looked out the window contemplatively.

* * *

She walked into the bathroom and collected the body. When she Apparated back to her house, Rodolphus looked up at her with an anxious look.

"Bella," he called out.

She looked at him, waiting for him to talk.

He shook his head. "This is not a good idea. If the Dark Lord finds out about this …"

"He will not find out unless you decide to tell him," Bellatrix cut in.

He let out a sound a sound of frustration, but she had already decided to ignore him.

She walked upstairs to her room and threw the body on the floor. A smirk appeared on her face as she remembered that she would have to thank the Crouches for giving her the idea. Although the dementors could not see or hear the prisoners, she knew quite well that Mrs. Crouch had taken Barty Crouch's place at Azkaban.

She sat on the bed as the face of "Hermione Granger" turned into someone else.

" _You're going to kill me?"_

 _"Oh no. I'm not going to kill you," Bellatrix replied as she walked across the room and sat on the armchair her master always sat in. She lovingly touched the part of the armrest where the Dark Lord always placed his hand on. "I'm not going to let you have the easy way out. Not after the torture you've placed me through for the past seven years." She looked back at Hermione. "Not to mention that it would be suspicious if you died by a hex. You don't possess a wand. No. You're going to live but not next to him." She flicked the wand towards the bushy-haired witch. "_ Stupefy _."_

She started to giggle before she stood up from the bed and walked out of the bedroom. She crossed the hallway and opened the door at the end.

She was going to enjoy the next few years much more than the previous ones.

"Hello again, Mudblood."

* * *

 **A/N** : Many thanks to all of you who've read, added to alerts, and/or added to favorites.

Huge, huge thanks to the following for reviewing: motherofallrandomness, Stridou, skyrosediamond, EndlessDelenaObsessedDesire, Stella Purple, Guest, PinkSlytherin, AD Lewis, Nerys, AnnaOxford, Xx Kari Ry xX, GoldenPiggy, nina sakurai, and Guest!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** : No, I'm not dead yet. *hears boos from the audience* Anyyyyhow. Still working on the revisions and sometimes working on the long overdue new, new chapter. We'll see if real life gives me a few more couple of chances at working on fanfics and stuff. XD

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

The darkness in the room wrapped around her eyes as if she was blindfolded. She felt like a wounded lioness, lying on the ground, wearing pieces of rags on her body.

"Fit for a filthy little Mudblood like you," Bellatrix Lestrange had spat out the first day Hermione Granger had been thrown into this cage.

The vindictive woman's words dripped of hatred, her scent of envy. Bellatrix was wrapped completely in the color of the House of Slytherin. She was surrounded by a green world of jealousy and left with nothing but spite and vengefulness.

For a whole month, Hermione had been tortured by one of Lord Voldemort's favorite Death Eaters. It was a game Bellatrix relentlessly played. As long as Hermione still held on to her sanity, Bellatrix was not going to stop inflicting pain on the bane of her existence.

"He never notices me because of you. You're nothing but a filthy Mudblood, but all he thinks about is you," Bellatrix snarled as she kept the Cruciatus Curse on Hermione.

Was he really thinking about her?

A sardonic smile appeared on her face as she looked in the Bellatrix's direction, even though every single cell in her body felt as if it was being ripped apart.

She was the luckier one of the two then. Although Bellatrix was free, the Dark Lord's thoughts were still not on her.

* * *

Sometimes, she wished that Bellatrix would just kill her already. In some of her dreams, when she finally fell asleep, she would dream about the infamous flash of green light and she would wake up with a smile on her face, only to find that she was still alive for another day.

She could feel the impatience from Bellatrix's words, annoyed by the fact that Hermione was not insane yet.

"It just goes to prove that Mudbloods are like cockroaches. You try to kill them but they just don't bend."

Hermione could hear the irritation behind those mocking words. A smile appeared on her lips as she acknowledged that Bellatrix was probably having an even harder time than she was. It was ironic how the one who wanted to torture someone ended up being the one persecuted.

It also surprised her that Bellatrix never bothered to illuminate the room.

 _Wouldn't it give her more satisfaction to see me in pain?_ Hermione had initially thought.

Nevertheless, only darkness surrounded her as her screams ripped through the vacancy of the room.

* * *

Rodolphus Lestrange was never a kind man. It was a fact that was known by everyone. Similar to how humans needed water to survive, Rodolphus needed to inflict pain on others to live. Oh yes. He and Bellatrix were known for their abilities to administer the Cruciatus Curse, second only to Lord Voldemort himself.

That was precisely the reason why Hermione was surprised the first time he appeared in the room, cast a Scouring Charm on her, and healed her wounds. She had no idea why he was expressing motions of kindness towards her when she was, in the eyes of the Death Eaters, worse than filth on the ground.

Nevertheless, she thanked him gently whenever he appeared, and he always answered with his usual unreadable expression. He never said anything while he was in the room, although Hermione would have been more than happy to hear someone else talk to her. It had been a while since she had had a proper conversation with someone, since the only tone of voice Bellatrix used on her were screams and snarls.

She tried to ask him questions, but they were never answered. Rodolphus only stared at her quietly as she swallowed the small portions of food he would bring her on his visits.

Despite her frustration, for once in her life, Hermione viewed a Death Eater as a beacon of bright light in a suffocating forest of green.

* * *

She no longer counted the number of days. It was impossible to know when it was morning or when it was night unless someone opened the door to her cage.

Sometimes, she found herself screaming into the darkness. Perhaps Bellatrix was getting her wish soon. Just maybe, Hermione Granger was about to go insane.

It was right when she was at the brink of breaking down. It was absurd, since she never believed in the sixth sense or fortune-telling rubbish. Nevertheless, she knew. She knew he was coming.

An ominous black aura disrupted the never-ending ocean of green that surrounded her and Bellatrix.

And she knew she was correct when Bellatrix became increasingly frantic. She was not as composed as she usually was as she cast different spells around the room to conceal noises made within it.

"You're not going back to his side. You're not going back to him," she chanted nervously as she continued to put up every single ward she knew.

Hermione approximated where Bellatrix was and watched her, imagining her anxious moves. It might have been funny in other cases but all Hermione felt was sadness towards the Death Eater.

* * *

She knew it was him before the door opened. His presence was too dominating to be missed, even if she couldn't see him.

He walked over to her and picked her up gently before Apparating back to the mansion they were living in before.

He did not ask her what happened while he healed her injuries.

"Bellatrix?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

He looked at her quietly, taking in her features which had taken on a ghostly touch to it due to lack of proper meals.

"She is no longer your concern," he answered after he scrutinized her for a while.

As he watched her drink the bowl of soup the House-elf had brought to her, Hermione wondered if the sudden scream she just heard was simply her imagination.

Or was she really hearing the cries of Bellatrix Lestrange, who was plunging even deeper into the sea of jealousy?

* * *

 **A/N** : Many thanks to all of you for reading, faving, and adding to alerts! Special thanks to those of you who've reviewed: Stella Purple, Stridou, Relent1ess, Guest, EndlessDelenaObsessedDesire, AD Lewis, Never a Writer, PinkSlytherin, motherofallrandomness, OptimusPrimegirl213, Mindful Insight, Xx Kari Ry xX, Guest, Guest, Guest, and acetwolf94!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Another scream ripped through the air, disturbing the silence, similar to how the rumbling thunder outside interfered with the rhythm of the steadily falling rain.

He was accustomed to screams. Torture was part of his life. Without it, he was like a fish out of water, gasping for oxygen, but never receiving it.

For the first time in his life, however, the shrieks did not bring him any pleasure.

"You filthy little Mudblood!" he heard the shrill voice of his wife shriek, followed by another groan of pain.

No, it did not bring him the elation he usually got from hearing the waning breaths of prisoners. In fact, all he felt was angst.

He was scared.

It was perhaps strange to think of Rodolphus Lestrange being afraid. However, no one could possibly blame him. Everyone in the Wizarding World feared the Dark Lord.

He leaned back into the chair and looked out the window. It was difficult to see the rain through the curtains, but he could still hear it spattering loudly against the glass and on the grounds. The heavy cloud cover that blocked out the sun seemed to be untouched by the winds that whistled through the unseen cracks of the house.

Sometimes, he wondered if the clouds were an omen of what was going to happen. It had not stopped raining since his wife captured the prisoner of their master.

His eyes flickered towards the prison on the second floor. It was as if he could see what his wife currently was doing to the cherished Mudblood, the woman that caused whispers amongst those who were loyal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months.

The only thing he could do was watch from the sidelines while his wife did as her heart desired.

And the uneasy feeling never subsided.

* * *

He was surprised when the Dark Lord requested for his presence alone. Usually, when he was called for, his wife would be summoned, too.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, threatening to run down his face. Yet, he did not dare to move before he was allowed to do so. For almost an hour, he had been kneeling in front of and being scrutinized by the most feared wizard in the world.

Contrary to popular belief, the Dark Lord did not live in a place filled with cobwebs and bats. Rodolphus had heard the most ridiculous rumors while he was traveling around the world, running errands for his master. People seemed to believe that the Dark Lord must live in a place that looked like a cheap Muggle imitation of a haunted house.

He had never seen the whole house before since the Dark Lord would never allow that. However, he had a general idea of what it looked like. The decorations and furniture of the mansion were simple, yet elegant. It was not nearly as cold as the Lestranges' house or as extravagant as Malfoy Manor, but it was certainly more welcoming than both of them.

There was one thing that was similar between the three houses, nevertheless. Each of them contained, within them, dungeons to keep prisoners. Rodolphus knew too well what they looked like. Each cellar was like a second bedroom to him, having spent many moments in them.

The only difference between this time and any other was the fact that _he_ was never the victim.

"Rodolphus."

"Yes, my Lord."

Another moment of silence followed, and the anxiety within him only increased.

Rodolphus wondered how much his master knew, allowing himself to hope for a moment that the Dark Lord had not yet found out about Bellatrix's treachery. Even though both he and his wife had been studying Occlumency, he had never attempted to use it on the Dark Lord. He knew that it would be simply useless.

"How long have you followed me?" the Dark Lord finally asked.

"Ever since I left Hogwarts, my Lord," he murmured.

"How many of my Death Eaters have betrayed me?"

Rodolphus immediately looked at him. The Dark Lord was sitting on an armchair in front of him, but the lighting in the room was too dim for him to see the expressions on his face.

"My Lord – "

"Answer my question, Rodolphus."

Rodolphus quickly analyzed the question in his mind. It was not as easy as it seemed to be. For the nearly twenty years he had been a Death Eater, he had seen only five people betray the Dark Lord. However, he did not know whether he should count his wife's actions as some sort of betrayal.

It was a choice between loyalty to his wife or to his master.

His eyes landed on the yew wand held by abnormally long fingers and he finally made his decision.

"Six, my Lord."

Although he still could not see the expression on the Dark Lord's face, he felt the atmosphere of the room change. At that moment, he realized he had made the right choice. He did not know how his Lord found out about his wife's treachery, but that was insignificant.

The Dark Lord stood up from the armchair, walked up to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"If she dies, I shall be very displeased."

"Yes, master."

* * *

He watched as Granger bit into the small piece of bread he had given her. When he first walked into the dark room, she stared at him in wonder and suspicion. He could feel her doubt increase when he performed a Scouring Charm on her and healed some of the nastier wounds. She was almost unwilling to take the food from him, but her hunger finally overcame her.

Rodolphus had to admit that he was surprised when he walked through the door. Although she had been tortured by Bella for well over two months already, the brightness in her eyes never went away. Therefore, he continued to examine her, using the minimal light from the end of his wand, as she devoured the small ration he had brought her.

When the last traces of bread disappeared, she murmured a soft "Thank you", observing him with curiosity in her eyes.

He lowered his eyes, stood up, and walked out of the room. He cast one last glance at her before he closed the door.

 _The Dark Lord would never choose a woman who was weak._

* * *

The fire was too small to light up the living room completely. If possible, it only made the house look even more depressing. The curtains occasionally swayed, blown by drafts entering through unseen cracks of the windows.

He could hear the sounds of the winds howling and rain pelting at the window. Flashes of lighting momentarily lit up the room from time to time.

His wife was becoming frantic. She paced in front of the fireplace, muttering to herself.

Many people said that she was insane—then again, they said that HE was insane, like his wife—but he knew better. She was very intelligent, just not as cunning as the Dark Lord.

"He knows … doesn't he … no … can't … no …"

From the snippets he was hearing, Rodolphus could tell that she was not sure if their master knew of her treachery yet.

He quietly continued to watch her, sitting in the armchair next to the window. A couple of times, he caught her looking at him, as if she was about to ask him something but decided against it.

She knew that she was a valuable warrior, that their master would not dispose of her because of Granger. He could still feel her fear, however—fear that the little Mudblood would return to the Dark Lord's side.

Her heavy-lidded eyes fell on the door of the prison and she headed toward the stairs.

He softly caressed a spot on his left arm with his right hand as he watched her run up the stairs and enter the room holding her prisoner.

When the door slammed shut behind his wife, he pulled up his left sleeve and pressed his wand against his inner forearm.

His eyes never left the door.

* * *

He waited in the study room, not moving an inch from the place where the house-elf had left him. The only light source in the room was the candle on top of the table. The storm finally slowed down, and if he strained his ears enough, he could hear the soft sounds of the drizzle coming in contact with the grounds. His concentration, however, was not on the fickle temper of Mother Nature.

His wife's desperate screams were still ringing in his ears. Momentarily, he allowed his mind to drift off to what had happened earlier.

 _Even when she was faced with dementors, the signature smirk of the Slytherins had been imprinted on her face. He recalled how they stood defiantly in front of the whole court at the Ministry of Magic as officials read off what crimes they had committed._

 _Yet, tonight was the first time he had seen Bella's face turn as pale as it had when she saw their master appear in their house. It turned a few shades paler when he brushed past them, going straight to where the Mudblood was being kept. Before she could comment or even attempt to stop the Dark Lord, however, she fell to the floor, bound by the Full Body Bind._

 _The Dark Lord halted in his stride. An aura of power, mixed with silent anger, filled the room, almost suffocating Rodolphus._

 _Without turning around, their master said quietly, "I will overlook it this time, Bella. If this happens again, I will not be so kind. Perhaps it would do you well to remember: Lord Voldemort always knows. Release her after I leave, Rodolphus."_

 _"Yes, my Lord."_

 _He watched as the Dark Lord made his way up the stairs before his eyes landed on his wife. Her eyes were pleading him to release her, but both of them knew it was a futile request._

When his wife was finally released from the curse, her screams filled the house, filling in every empty corner.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. He immediately dropped down to the floor, recognizing his master's presence even before he saw him.

He vaguely remembered giving the Dark Lord reports about what happened afterwards and receiving directions about what to do hereafter before he returned to his home.

Bella was still sitting on the floor, a look of despair and hatred on her face.

It was at the moment when Rodolphus realized that his master's words were correct again.

The conflict between the lioness and the serpent would never end.

* * *

 **A/N** : Huge thanks to all of you for reading, faving, and adding to alerts! Special thanks to those of you who've reviewed: Stridou, Snapesbloodredneko, alexandra arias9054, OptimusPrimegirl213, Meridian13, Guest, acetwolf94, AD Lewis, Pink Slytherin, and EndlessDelenaObsessedDesire!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The hazy glow of the moonlight entered the room through the window. From afar, an owl hooted loudly, almost as if it was complaining about the chirping of the crickets.

He closed his eyes, allowing the soft chorus of the night to wash over him.

The scent of freshly spilled blood, faint enough to be missed by most people, reminded him of her death.

The _thought_ of her death.

An unprecedented wrath encompassed his senses and he opened his eyes, glaring at the door that led to where she still lay.

Even in her death, she infuriated him more than Potter.

The annoying little Mudblood.

 _The shard of glass protruding from her chest …_

"Bella!"

The door behind him opened and he turned around, facing one of his most loyal followers.

 _The pools of blood surrounding her still body, accentuating the milky whiteness of her skin …_

"Yes, my Lord."

He remained silent. For a moment, he relished the idea of ripping the Mudblood's body apart with the different curses he knew before the notion that she was gone forever settled into his mind once more.

 _Her chocolate-brown eyes were closed, long dark eyelashes brushing against her face, as if she had simply fallen asleep_ …

His eyes briefly locked with the woman kneeling on the floor before she averted her eyes again.

"Give her a proper burial. You know what to do to those who dare to taint her name," he said quietly, his eyes flickering only once before darkening, as conflicting emotions collided with one another.

"Yes, my Lord."

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and turned toward the window once more.

A cloud moved in front of the moon, blocking out her light, and the faint figure of an owl flew across the sky.

* * *

He stayed in the shadows, watching his followers torture the young man. It was pointless to learn the boy's name. He merely wanted information about the Undesirables.

 _"_ _You have no one left. Who are you going to turn to now, Miss Granger?" he asked, a vicious glow illuminating his blood red eyes._

"I'm getting tired of you, boy," he quietly said, pulling out his wand, standing up from his chair, and moving into the light.

His followers immediately stopped their curses and bowed towards him, waiting for further instructions.

A faint smile touched Lord Voldemort's lips when he smelled the pitiful fear emitting from the supposedly courageous Gryffindor chained to the wall.

For the past seven years, he had captured, tortured, and killed so many people from the House of the lions that it became clear to him that the opinions of the Sorting Hat were overvalued. When faced with the possibility of death, they quivered just like a normal _Muggle_.

Hypocrites.

The words they said, the offers they had made in exchange for their lives, and the things they did were precisely what they had shunned before they had fallen into his hands.

And Pettigrew was only one example.

 _She stared at him, wordlessly defying him, daring him to kill her. The chocolate brown eyes. Innocent. Too innocent. And too stubborn._

"You will tell me where they are," Voldemort demanded, his robes swirling around like an ominous cloud as he glided towards the young man, making him look like a demon that had just arrived on Earth from hell.

The prisoner closed his eyes determinedly, as if he was ready for death.

He almost wanted to laugh whenever he saw someone shut their eyes in the face of death. It was an act of cowardice. If they were brave, they would have faced their ends without even blinking.

Once again, he had proven that the so-called values used to Sort students at Hogwarts were a bunch of nonsense.

 _He pulled her into his arms. Their gazes locked, anger clashing with defiance, embracing one another like a pair of intimate lovers._

Fear was eating through the _Gryffindor's_ courage. He could see it as if it was laying bare right in front of him. Beads of sweat peppered the young man's face. The chains holding him back made little jingling noises as he trembled.

" _Crucio_ ," he cast evenly.

A bloodcurdling scream filled the room, bouncing off the walls and escaping through the windows.

"This is the last time I will ask you, boy. Where are they?" he asked after he released the young man from the spell.

"I … I don't … I don't know," the boy stammered, panting and trembling even more from the aftereffects of the curse.

The boy was telling the truth; after all, being at the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse performed by the Dark Lord himself was not a pleasant experience. The answer, however, displeased him.

 _She writhed in his arms, biting into his shoulder to stop herself from screaming as he nonverbally and wandlessly cast the Cruciatus Curse on her. Her eyes, filled with impudence, burned into his, unyielding even in her pain._

It had been a rash decision, allowing her to live purely because of his boredom, and he admitted that he had underestimated the woman. She had turned out to be much more of a problem than he had thought she would be. Somehow, she had managed to outwit the spy that followed her and was gathering up followers.

The insolent Gryffindor!

"Then what _do_ you know?" he coldly said, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

He approached the young man, stopping mere centimeters from him and studying his features.

And he had thought the boy couldn't become any more frightened.

"I … I only get instructions from their messengers. They don't know me well enough to entrust me with their location," the boy replied, shaking his head, his eyes wide and sweat dripping down his cheeks.

"They surely would've told you about their plans to save Miss Granger, wouldn't they?" he hissed.

"How did you—"

Secrets will only be secrets if the people who know them are dead. However, it was not his obligation to explain such things to his prisoners, nor did he want to do so.

 _"_ _Have you seen how predators hunt?" he asked her quietly, releasing her from the curse. "The harder their prey tries to get away, the faster they pursue it."_

 _Still panting, she replied cheekily, "That only proves that you're not human."_

 _Instead of being angry, he merely smiled. "No, Miss Granger. I am much more than a normal human. Make no mistake about that. And you will surrender to me one day."_

He had enough of the hindrance. He needed to know where they were before it was too late. If it was three weeks ago, or even a week ago, he might have been more than happy to play this game of cat and mouse with the witch. Now, however …

He had little time left before his little pet completely broke down.

With a wave of his hand, he released the young man from the chains.

"You will return to them," he instructed, his red eyes still focused on the boy. "If they do not surrender to me within three days, I will personally search for them myself, and the consequences will be less than desirable for them. Lead him to the door, Lucius."

"Yes, my Lord," the blond murmured. He straightened up and pulled the young man towards the door.

"Tell Minerva that it's useless," Voldemort spoke up again before they walked out of the dungeons. "The little lioness's not going back to them."

* * *

He was a serpent by nature, one that coiled up in the dark corner, waiting for the perfect moment, the second when his victim was the most vulnerable.

Then, he attacked.

And like all other predators, patience was one of his greatest assets. For seven years, he waited for the little Mudblood to surrender to him; he knew that it was a matter of time before she completely succumbed. All she needed was a little push.

 _Her eyes widened at the realization that she had fallen in love with him. For a moment, he almost wanted to sneer at the notion of love. Instead, he continued to watch her silently as she struggled internally with herself._

As much as he was displeased by the fact that Bella went behind his back and kidnapped his prisoner, he saw it as a chance for Granger to experience what a true victim of a Death Eater was like. He wanted her to realize what she would have been going through if he had not been merciful to her.

However, he had not anticipated what happened after Bella imprisoned the Mudblood. Minerva's "escape" had, of course, been planned. It was obvious that if he had not allowed it, the woman couldn't possibly leave the mansion, which was protected by wards he himself had set up. It was similar to how a cat would play with a mouse before killing it. He was waiting to see what she would do when she had her supposed freedom.

Apparently, however, she was a lot sneakier than he had anticipated her to be. For seven years, Minerva McGonagall led a rather boring life. Using a clever disguise, she would visit Diagon Alley and pick up books every single day. Other than that, she would stay in her little hut just a small distance away from Hogsmeade.

The stories of her simple, everyday life were so tiresome that he began to toy with the notion of paying her a social visit and ending the monotony for her. Those plans were stymied, however, when she disappeared.

Without a trace.

Needless to say, he was enraged by the news and the spy that had been following her never got to see sunrise again.

What angered him even more was the fact that his Death Eaters had not been thorough enough when they were rounding up Dumbledore and Potter's supporters. And now Minerva had become some sort of a ringleader for them.

A month and a half ago, he had received news about a ploy by the reestablished Order of the Phoenix to free his little Mudblood. He had wanted Granger well out of the way when he took care of them, but the "rescue" never occurred and all hints of their activities vanished.

 _She suddenly looked towards him, her eyes filled with sadness and confusion. She was lost and she did not know how to find her way out of the labyrinth._

 _The Minotaur's labyrinth._

It was obvious that they were still out there somewhere, plotting. However, he had to finish some unresolved business before he could concentrate on locating them.

His eyes landed on the man who had been kneeling in front of him for the past hour.

"Rodolphus."

"Yes, my Lord."

He always chose the members of his inner circle carefully. Rodolphus was an extremely intelligent man, contrary to popular belief. He was perhaps even smarter than Bella, although he preferred to stay in the background. Therefore, Lord Voldemort was hardly surprised when the Death Eater did not even attempt to use Occlumency against him.

"How long have you followed me?"

"Ever since I left Hogwarts, my Lord."

A faint smile touched his lips before he asked his next question.

"How many of my Death Eaters have betrayed me?"

Rodolphus immediately looked at him.

"My Lord—"

"Answer me, Rodolphus."

Voldemort had always known that Rodolphus loved Bella. The man cherished the witch more than she had ever acknowledged. Or perhaps because she simply did not care.

 _They continued watching one another. She was still in shock._

 _Yet surprisingly, there were no traces of regret in her eyes._

Nevertheless, it was time for him to choose where his loyalties lay.

"Six, my Lord," Rodolphus finally answered.

Apparently, he was even more intelligent than Lord Voldemort had previously believed.

A pleased expression appeared on the Dark Lord's face as he walked up to Rodolphus and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"If she dies, I shall be very displeased."

"Yes, master."

* * *

She was a lot thinner, he noticed. Her cheeks had lost their plumpness and, although she was never heavy, she felt lighter than a feather in his arms.

"Bellatrix?" she asked while he healed her injuries. When the last wound was healed, he scrutinized her quietly.

An unspoken praise flashed through his eyes when he noticed how the brightness in her eyes was exactly how he remembered it to be.

"She is no longer your concern," he answered before he summoned one of the house-elves to bring her a bowl of soup.

She quietly drank the soup after his answer, lost in her thoughts.

A sense of possessiveness washed over him as he watched different emotions run over her features.

She was _his_.

As she turned over to place the bowl on the bedside table, he suddenly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. The bowl fell down to the floor, shattering into pieces.

She first looked at him in surprise before she questioned him without words.

Her brown eyes … just like chocolates, warming a person after a dementor attack. Or even a cup of coffee in a chilly winter morning …

"You're mine," he quietly declared.

She gave him no answer, neither agreed with him nor denied his statement, and simply continued gazing into his eyes.

* * *

He listened to Rodolphus's reports about Bella halfheartedly.

Bella was obviously outraged with what had happened tonight. There was no doubt in his mind that she would try something again in the near future, but he simply did not have time to monitor her movements.

He would've killed her if she was not such an important member of his inner circle.

"Keep an eye on Bella, Rodolphus," he ordered, contemplating on what the Order was doing at the moment.

Were they getting ready to "save" Granger? Or were they thinking of plans to assassinate him? Perhaps both.

What he really wanted to know was if his little Mudblood would leave with them.

Lord Voldemort could be arrogant, but he was not stupid. He knew that as much as Granger loved him, her pride and stubbornness would dictate her to leave with the Order.

And he had better things to do than to chase after a witch who did not know what was good for her.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Do not fail me," he warned.

"Yes, master," Rodolphus replied, bowing even lower onto the floor.

After dismissing the Death Eater with a wave of his hand, he Apparated back to his room. He stood by the bed, watching the peaceful expression on her face as she slept.

Without waking her up, he climbed into the bed and pulled her into his arms. Brushing her bushy locks away, he looked at her face.

No one took away Lord Voldemort's possessions.

No one.

* * *

 **A/N** : Many thanks to those of you who've read, added to fave, and added to alert! Special thanks to those of you who've reviewed: Stridou, Stella Purple, hateme101, PinkSlytherin, acetwolf94, Lyanah, Guest, Guest, and sam853!


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